


Tangled Web

by misha_anon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drabble, M/M, Public Sex, Rutting, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 01:37:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_anon/pseuds/misha_anon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel in an alley, quick and desperate and full of lies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangled Web

**Author's Note:**

> _Based on Season 6 character dynamics and all that entails._

"I have to go," Castiel whispers against Dean’s lips.

"Don’t," Dean answers; half-order, half plea. He’s leaned back against a wet brick wall in a dingy alley, one hand gripping at the lapel of Castiel’s trench coat and the other tangled in Castiel’s hair. He surges forward, captures Castiel’s lips in a desperate kiss and the angel allows himself to fall headlong back into the moment.

Dean’s fingers tighten in Castiel’s hair, pulling as his tongue fucks into Castiel’s mouth, traces the contours. Cas gasps and presses the full length of his body to Dean’s as their tongues twist and slide. He grabs Dean’s face, holds him still and bites his bottom lip. When Dean growls, Castiel kisses him again, desperate to taste the sound.

Dean’s hips are rocking in rough, stuttered thrusts against Castiel’s and the familiar edge of discomfort tightens in his stomach even as his cock hardens to aching. If - when -Crowley finds out about this, he will be furious. Castiel kisses Dean more deeply, trying to ignore the way Dean’s body goes soft under the press of his own.

"Dean," he groans. "Dean, I have to go.” Dean’s lips find his again, stopping his train of thought where it stands for another round of bruising kisses and filthy rutting. When he gathers his bearings again, he pulls away, panting against Dean’s lips ahead of another in a long string of lies. ”I’m expected in Heaven.”

"Let ‘em wait," Dean answers, one hand moving to Castiel’s hip to pull their bodies closer as the other tightens in his hair again. "I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

"I know," Castiel says. He struggles for the willpower to pull himself away and go, but all he can do is press and open-mouthed kiss to Dean’s jaw and repeat, "I know."

Dean has both hands on Castiel’s hips now, under his jackets, fingers sliding beneath the waistband of his slacks even as he tilts his head away to bare his throat. Castiel doesn’t argue when he feels Dean’s fingers working at his belt buckle or when he feels the release of pressure when Dean makes quick work of the button and zipper. Instead, he draws a lazy pattern down the side of Dean’s neck with the tip of his tongue.

"Let me have this, Cas." Dean’s voice is rough with need. Castiel stops and looks at him, squinting in the dim light as his eyes meet Dean’s. He might protest if Dean’s fingers weren’t wrapped around his cock, cool and damp from the rain that has fallen on them. Castiel tries to stop the soft, pleased noise that rumbles up from his chest, but fails when Dean whispers, "Let me have you."

He shivers and pushes forward, trapping Dean against the wall, bodies awkwardly close when he scrambles to unbutton Dean’s jeans. Castiel catches Dean’s lips again, tries to kiss him, but settles for breathing raggedly with occasional swipes of tongue. He pushes Dean’s jeans and underwear out of the way roughly, then his own.

Dean’s fingers stretch to wrap his fist around both their cocks as Castiel starts to thrust. The slide of precome against the warmth of Dean’s palm and the velvet softness of his cock are exquisite and Castiel finds himself suddenly frantic. He grabs at Dean’s jacket as he grinds his hips forward; lets Dean take care of the tight squeeze and rough slide of cocks while he focuses on Dean’s mouth.

He kisses wet and deep, teeth bumping almost painfully as he tries to say all the things words won’t allow. He tries to push away the slowburn knowledge of his own betrayal, desperate to tell Dean everything with his body, if only to absolve himself of his growing list of sins. 

Dean’s fingers clench and release around their cocks as each man finds his own rhythm. He kisses more desperately, tongue flicking over Dean’s teeth as he tries to capture Dean’s flavor to take with him. Within a few strokes Castiel feels himself stiffening, his whole body going tight and shoving Dean’s against the wall so hard it knocks the breath out of them both.

Castiel pulls away, presses the bridge of his nose hard to the roughness of Dean’s jawline and grinds as his cock twitches in Dean’s hand. Orgasm hits, as always, like the fire of the sun burning through the center of his body and sliding like ice water across his nerve endings. He stifles a moan against Dean’s neck as thick come pulses over the head of his cock and into Dean’s waiting hand.

Dean does no such thing, crying out softly with his chin pressed into the top of Castiel’s shoulder. His chest goes tight with a deep breath and then his cock is jerking, too, his hips rolling frantically forward as he fucks into his own hand. Castiel rocks his hips, off-rhythm and brutal, as more heat and wet roll over the head of his oversensitive cock and the filthy slide of Dean’s fingers reaches his ears.

Their ragged panting echoes in the narrow alley as Dean’s body trembles between Castiel’s and the wall. When he pulls his hand away, Castiel growls at the suddenly missing warmth. He can hear Dean’s harsh breaths starting to slide into half-formed words and he knows the questions are about to start.

"Dean," he whispers pleadingly, wanting nothing more than to stay here and savor this moment. That isn’t an option since he already lied to Crowley about where he was going and when he would return. Crowley will smell Dean on Castiel and the shouting and recriminations will start. Again.

Castiel pulls back, tries to look Dean in the eyes even as he tucks his slick, soft cock back into his boxers and refastens his slacks and belt. Probably for the better, it’s too dark to really see. ”I can’t stay.”

Dean’s expression is clouded, somewhere between disgust and disappointment. He leans heavily against the wall and licks his lips. Soon, Castiel promises himself, he will come clean about everything. Soon, but not tonight. The last thing he hears before he takes wing is Dean’s softly accusatory, “You never can, Cas.”


End file.
